surface stories(as stories surface)_2/The Skin + The Skin Container

Monday, March 30, 2009

4 chapters for command_destroy(WAR IS WAR)

Journey, witness of sound (hertz_heart)Initiation (flesh is pieces and no more)NightcivilizationSaved, in between constant threatsChemical examination of WORDSDreamers of the forgottenThe line of the last oneAwakening (neu content_human)

IN PROGRESS_erasers

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Speaker_Head_Louder

People will speak. They will not speak in order to convince, or to drown the noise of silence. They will speak because it will be easy to do so, and because life will surge from their mouths together with the words. Everything will be filled with life. There will no longer be room for anything dead words.

People will speak, and their words will no longer resemble razor blades. Their mouths will no longer be like jaws. Thought will fill the world, it will exist inside blocks of concrete, inside subterranean pipelines, inside cranes, inside aeroplane propellers, inside car engine pistons. Thought will no longer be hidden inside craniums and tape-recorder reels. Thought will no longer be imprisoned in cinema halls or university lecture-rooms or buildings belonging to Esso Standard.

THE MASTERS OF LANGUAGE(persecuation_phrases)

The Masters of Language know the keys that open the doors, for the locks are their faces. They never laugh. They are never afraid. They do not die. They have no terrors, they are never in darkness. Their homes are illuminated, night and day; their eyes are headlamps picking out the folds in hilly roads. For them there is no silence, no weakness. They are inside the machines, without a doubt, and their motion never slackens. Their willpower like the flywheel of a steam-roller, pushing the wheel that pushes it. They devour mens desires, after having invented them. They have no need to dream when they sleep, for their waking dreams are, precisely, the faces of infatuated men and womwen streaming along the corridor'channels, identical trolleys carrying their precious cargo towards the warehouses.their heavy, living cargoes of thoughts.The Masters of Language have no love for men. The Masters write their words, words as big as buildings, their terrible silent words that crush the world. They invent the syllables that lull the mind to sleep, they create the magic phrases that persecute.

propaganda_23

9002

Voluble words gushing from all orifices, quick, more quickly still, a new word each micro-second, there must always be more, there must always be new ones, untiringly, flashes crackling in the black silence, more, more, quickly, quickly, to hide the sun, to expand space, words, life, insects, quivering and vibrating, words that blacken sky and earth, words, cobwebs, dust, twigs, and clusters of stars.silence will never be heard.